Month: February 2018

I flew to Paris to begin to discover who I really was. I turned my back on my home, friends and family. I left a 32 year relationship smoldering in embers that once held monogamy, a precious dog, and a loving husband.

Everything was gone.

In Paris I found a lover for three weeks. We were inseparable (unlike now). I saw very little of Paris, but saw the generosity of my Parisian. I knew my time was up when our relationship was bordering on burden. My presence was no longer simple. No, the relationship began to dovetail into daily routines. It was becoming burdensome: accommodations, schedules, money.

Everything was gone.

In Charlotte I thought I would find warm weather with sunny skies. I thought I’d be able to penetrate the gay sub-culture, but was sadly mistaken. Charlotte doesn’t have a gay sub-culture. Instead they have thousands of isolated gay men tethered to the social scene by social media apps and a few bars in not-so-desireable parts of town.

Everything was gone.

Until I met Rodrigo. We met on a social app but were intent on being friends. That’s where our relationship was tethered. And there it remains, two of us moored together adrift in the non-existent gay sub-culture. But we’ve burrowed down and created our own, fully expressed gay sub-culture. As I write this, Rodrigo is sitting next to me on the sofa, thighs touching, while Rodrigo has laid his head on my shoulder and naps like a friendly feline.

Like this:

His hair
a woody thicket
of brambles
and his eyes
lazy crescents
of chestnut
and his cheekbones
steep summits
of bone
and his jaw
identical triangles
of courage
and his throat
a pillar candle
of flesh
and his chest
a map
of territory.